


And they were stuck together (oh my god they were stuck together)

by redraspberrycats



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Eddie is angry but secretly just awkward, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, Mechanic Eddie Kaspbrak, Oh that is its own tag how lovely, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Richie's dad bod, except as a plot device, hell yeah babey, they are gay and stupid your honor, they are supposed to be in their twenties here, tho that isnt rly mentioned, though really the mechanic part does not have much bearing on the story, umm, when will i stop with these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24016525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redraspberrycats/pseuds/redraspberrycats
Summary: Eddie and Richie get snowed in with each other and too much sexual tension between them. Something's got to give.Written for the IT Fandom Exchange 2020.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	And they were stuck together (oh my god they were stuck together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eddiekissbrak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiekissbrak/gifts).



> This is a gift for @eddiekissbrak on tumblr, who asked for the snowed in trope, nsfw, mutual pining/sexual tension, an AU, and enemies to lovers. I know I didn't quite hit all the points, but I'm pretty satisfied with what I've got, and this was a blast to write!

Richie eyed the burgeoning storm clouds in the distance worriedly, banging once more on his dashboard in a futile attempt to get his car to stop emitting… some sort of noise. Whatever it was, it was concerning, and had been going on for the past few miles of the road. At this point, he was just hoping to make it to a hotel and then work it out from there. 

No such luck.

Richie winced as his car gave a few dying sputters and then gave up, just in time for him to pull over onto the shoulder of the road. "Don't worry, buddy, lots of guys have performance issues," he said, ignoring the little voice in his head telling him he was insane. "I'm sure some good doctor will have you up and running in no time." Everyone talked to inanimate objects when they were alone, right? God, Richie needed to get some friends. Stan was great and all, but his sarcasm and stony silences were not helping Richie's taste in conversation partners. Speaking of which, he guessed he should be having one of those with the nearest mechanic right about now.

Searching it up on Google (thank god for modern technology), he found that the closest person who could help him out was some dude named Kaspbrak, whose number was conveniently on the website, too. Sighing to himself, he gave it a ring. It had been a long day and this was the last thing he'd wanted to happen. No time for wallowing, though. The guy picked up on the first ring.

"Edward Kaspbrak speaking."

Richie snorted. "Man, were you raised by your grandparents? You know you can just say hello, right?"

"I'm sorry, can I help you?" The man on the other end of the line was sounding like he was trying to be polite, but Richie could tell 'Edward' was already done with his shit. Ah, well. Wouldn't be the first time he'd made an enemy within minutes of meeting, and wouldn't be the last. 

"Sorry, sorry." He apologized anyway, because he needed this guys help and he was an adult, damn it. 

There were a few silent, awkward seconds between them. This was the part where the other person usually said something like 'it's fine,' or 'no worries,' but one Edward Kaspbrak was evidently not giving any ground, so Richie plowed on as best he could. He stubbornly resisted cracking a joke; he could go a few minutes without trying to break tension or ruining a serious mood. "So anyway, I'm calling because I found your number on the 'net and my car is kinda broken down on the highway and -- do you have a towtruck?" 

A few more moments of silence. A sigh from the other end of the phone. "You do realize it's both evening and about to storm in the middle of winter, right?"

"Jesus, what crawled up your ass and died?" Okay, so maybe he couldn't go a few minutes without trying to break the tension. "Because I can assure you, it wasn't me, seeing as I would never cheat on your mother like that." 

"I don't have to put up with this, you know. I own this shop. I hope for your sake you just got possessed by a particularly obnoxious twelve year old." Ouch, okay, this guy had a bit of bite to him. It did get on his nerves a little, but Richie also found it kinda refreshing? Go figure. The duality of man and all that, he supposed. 

"Okay! Okay! If you wanna deprive yourself of my hilarious commentary that's fine by me, I know when to shut up." No, he didn't. "But will you please come at least give me a ride to somewhere nearby?" He wasn't going to be stuck out in a snowstorm if he had anything to say about it.

"Oh my god, fine. I'll come tow you to my shop and see if I can't fix whatever's wrong with your car, so long as you can swear you won't make any more shitty jokes." Richie swore, of course. Was he lying? Maybe a little, but mostly it was fine, because his jokes weren't shitty in the first place. That's what he liked to tell himself, anyway. Helped him sleep at night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie shifted his grip on the wheel for the third time in as many seconds, trying to give himself something to do besides strangle the man sitting next to him. The guy, Richie, had called about a half hour ago, and now they were stuck in the car together. Eddie was having the fucking time of his life. 

"Hey, Edsie." Richie whined from where he was sprawled across 75% of the front seat. "If you're not gonna talk, could you at least lemme put the radio on?"

"That is not my fucking name. How many times have I told you that? Six? Seven? We have been in the car less than half an hour and I have had to tell you no less than eight times that my name is Eddie! Please get it right, I swear on my dead mother--"

"Woah, okay, slow the fuck down, Eduardo. You're talking at the speed of light. I only caught, like, half of that." Richie scratched at his arm absently. "...Maybe two thirds?" 

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, tightened his grip on the wheel for a fourth time, and glared at an unfortunate white truck coming down the road toward them. He closed his eyes. He opened them. He took several deep breaths and then turned, briefly, to glance at Richie. "Will you. Kindly. Shut. The fuck. Up." He spat out the sentence slowly, enunciating carefully and outlining every word with spite. There was an answering grumble from the passenger seat, the sound of Richie shifting, and then (finally) nothing.

It was a shame, thought Eddie wildly, underneath his dwindling anger, that Richie was so goddamn annoying, because if he were any more tolerable Eddie would have found him attractive. Nigh on irresistible, even. In a word, he was probably best described as extra; everything about Richie was just slightly over the top. Too tall, big hands and long, thick fingers, wild curls of hair that flew everywhere, broad shoulders and a bit of give to his stomach that made Eddie's traitorous subconscious want to press bruises and kisses into it with his mouth and fingers. The palms of his hands itched, and he reached forward to turn on the radio for the remainder of their car ride as Richie had requested, because at least it was a semblance of distraction. 

Snow began to fall from the overcast sky and fill the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they pulled into the garage for Eddie's shop, the snow was still coming down in droves, fast and hard (just how Richie liked it, heh.) It looked horrible, and the visibility out there was shit. As much as he wanted to get out of Eddie's hair, for both their sakes, it looked like Richie should at least bring up the possibility of staying the night. 

Breaking the somewhat tense silence in the car, Richie spoke up. "Um, so how close is the next hotel?" From where he was sitting shotgun, Richie could see the hard line of Eddie's shoulders as they tensed. 

"It's another twenty minutes out, why?" Eddie asked the question like a man who already knew the answer. He opened his car door, and the air in the garage was cold and dry, newly cut off from the outside world.

"I was thinking that like what if you dropped me off and then couldn't get back here, yknow?" Richie fumbled through his words, feeling oddly as if he were at an audition. "I wouldn't want you to get stuck on the way back and freeze to death out there and, just, c'mon help me out, dude, you know where I'm going with this." He gestured helplessly, grabbing his duffel and finally stepping out of his side of the car to follow Eddie, who had started the walk toward the interior door. 

"You want to stay the night with me, here?" Richie nodded wordlessly. "...Alright." Eddie answered after a moment of thought, turning away again to continue walking. "But you're going to have to sleep on the couch. My apartment above the shop only has one bed."

Richie's gaze followed Eddie as he strode away, lingering on the way his ass filled out his jeans, his trim waist, the movement of his biceps and forearms under his skin as he removed his coat and turned the handle on the door. He looked back up at Eddie's face just in time to make eye contact with him for a few agonizingly long seconds, and the other man raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to move anytime soon, or did you want to sleep out here?" Shaking himself before he could sink into another trance induced by Eddie and his (dark, deep, deliciously warm brown) Bambi eyes, Richie bounded across the garage and followed Eddie inside and up a flight of stairs.

They came out in the living room of a small, open plan apartment, with the living room directly forward and the kitchen to the left of it. A hallway further ahead contained a couple doors that Richie assumed lead to a bathroom and bedroom, as well as what looked like a closet. "Nice digs." He commented, mostly just for something to say. "You bring lotsa dames home with you or am I just special?"

Eddie shot him a Look. "Shut up, asshole. You're special, alright, just not in the way you think. Got a special sense of style, I'll say that." He pointedly raked his eyes up and down Richie's ensemble, which included such things as an obnoxiously patterned collared shirt and crocs paired with fuzzy socks. 

Richie fluttered his lashes and pressed a hand to his chest, mock offended. "Why, Mister Kasbprak, that's no way to talk to a paying customer! Especially not one as pretty and sensitive as me." He threw in a smarmy wink at the end, speaking in his best southern accent, which was still pretty atrocious. 

Eddie's mouth twitched at the corners and his eyebrows quirked, but he didn't respond in kind. "Oh, terribly sorry. Didn't realize you could be both sensitive and uncouth at the same time, please do forgive me." His tone, acerbic, got across just fine that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. Richie's face lit up -- a ha! So he had a sense of humour buried in there somewhere after all! -- and he opened his mouth to engage in more witty repartee, but Eddie cut him off. "I'm going to bed, it's late. Please try not to burn down my house. The bathroom is the door closest to the living room if you need it, and the couch is a pull out." 

Richie had a strong urge to point out that it was 9:30, and thus not late at all, but he tamped it down. As high strung as Eddie was, and as much as it was fun to push his buttons, he was also letting Richie stay overnight in his home unexpectedly. He got the strong impression Eddie wasn't the type to do that often. Instead of (too much) further heckling, he wiggled his fingers at Eddie and plopped his duffel on the floor next to the couch. "Alright, don't have too much fun in there! I'll be able to hear you pretty clearly." He grinned widely, watching perhaps a tad too closely as Eddie made his way down the hall, tossing a short "Fuck you!" and a snort over his shoulder. Who could blame him for staring, really? There was only so much a man could do when presented with someone as scorching hot as Eddie Kaspbrak, even if he was a stick in the mud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie woke up the next morning at six o'clock on the dot, just as he did every morning, despite the fact that it was a Saturday. He grumbled his way through turning off his alarm and pulling on a worn out wife beater, then shuffled both into and out of the bathroom in just his boxers before he spotted the head of flyaway curls on his couch. What the fuck?? Did someone fucking sneak in last night or-- oh, right. Not home invasion. Or at least not the non consensual kind, he amended in his head. It was just that intolerable-but-somehow-weirdly-charming guy Richie. The jury was still out, but morning-Eddie figured he was alright when he wasn't spouting his mouth off about whatever godforsaken idea came into his head. 

He went about his morning routine somewhat more awkwardly after that, starting coffee and breakfast just as Richie started to stir. The smell must have woken him up. 

"What-- what is that?" He mumbled, fighting through a yawn. His morning voice was rough, and rumbled in his chest. It warmed Eddie's face in a way that had nothing to do with the hot pan in front of him.

"If you mean the smell, dipshit, it's an omelet. Didn't think you'd be awake yet, but I can make you one too?" He offered, his voice stilted. How did you act when you let a stranger stay the night in your home? This was like the aftermath of a one night stand without even getting the fun part.

"Yeah, time 's it anyway? Fucking ass o'clock in the morning or some shit… yeah, yeah if you made one you'd have my utmost gratitude. You want a favor in return?" Richie blinked blearily at him over the back of the couch and smiled teasingly, though it came out a little lopsided. 

Woke up two minutes ago and already going at it with the jokes. Great. Eddie tried to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks, deeper than before.

"It's seven am, dipshit. Not that early." Eddie fired back, flipping the omelet over. He plated it and walked it over to Richie with a fork. "Here. There's coffee, too, if that's your thing." 

"Well, now, if I knew I was getting the five star treatment I'd have offered more 'n a favor." Richie's eyes twinkled, unfairly pretty in his unfairly pretty face. He was still so out of it that his eyelids were out of sync. This man was a disaster. 

"You're a guest, Richie. It's called common courtesy."

They spent the rest of the morning like that, squabbling over guest treatment and hotels and who should do the dishes and any little meaningless argument they could, interspersed, of course, with Richie's relentless innuendo and Eddie's undaunted sass. Eventually, they settled into a rhythm, where Eddie sat with his laptop to get what work done he could and Richie watched some inane bullshit on the television and they both occasionally threw out snarky comments to spark conversation. Over the space of the next few hours, the conversation died down, too, and they sat in relatively peaceful silence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richie was restless. He kept watching a few episodes of one thing and then switching the show. Kept turning his phone on for notifications, remembering that he got fuck all for service out here, and then turning it off only to do the same thing a few minutes later. Kept tapping his fingers or his feet, crossing his legs and uncrossing them, shifting his body around the couch into new positions, licking and biting his bottom lip. He wanted to do something (or someone), but he couldn't even go for a walk right now. After breakfast, he and Eddie had checked outside and confirmed what they'd already suspected; they were snowed in. The snow was feet deep out there, covered everything, and Eddie didn't want to try going anywhere until the plows had come through.

So, he was stuck. All he could do was keep fidgeting. Also, he couldn't stop himself from stealing short glances (and then longer ones) over at where Eddie sat with his computer, looking too adorable and delectable for a man who wasn't doing anything but glare at a screen. He had put pants on once Richie woke up, but he still remembered the flash of thick, toned thighs he'd gotten before Eddie had disappeared into the bedroom. Richie couldn't stop obsessing over them, over Eddie's mouth wateringly hot legs and mechanic's hands and plush lips. It wasn't like he was trying to fantasize about him! He was just so damn attractive, and sitting right there, and Richie didn't have anything else that would occupy his mind.

Eddie hadn't said anything in about an hour, seemingly completely engrossed in whatever he was doing on the computer. Thus it came as a surprise, when Richie ran his hands through his hair for the 20 billionth time, that the man just snapped. 

"Richie! Can you please, for fuck's sake, stay still?! I get the impression that it's hard for you but I am going to go insane right now. Unless you're doing this on purpose, in which case, what the fuck!" He just kept going, spewing out words at a hundred miles an hour. He wasn't quite yelling, but it was close, and Richie felt immediately thrown on the defensive.

"Hey, listen, what do you want me to do, huh? I'm stuck inside, I'm just sitting on the couch, I have ADHD, dude!" Also, you're hot as fuck and it's distracting! He kept that part to himself, though, knowing it would escalate the situation in a way he didn't want right now.

"I don't know, and I'm sorry, but I can't get any work done like this! You're so fucking distracting, and you know if you keep biting your lip like that it's going to bleed and then it could get infected, dickwad! Your mouth is a breeding ground for germs and bacteria and disease!" He bisected his face with a hand in his over the top enthusiasm for his ranting, which had completely gone off the rails at this point. A tiny part of Richie thought it was cute.

"If you're so bothered by it maybe you should relocate, then." He answered back petulantly, possessed by a childish frustration with the situation and himself, and egged on by his attraction to Eddie, the second grade mentality of pulling pigtails and chasing your crush at recess.

"Alright, then, I guess I will!" Eddie said it a tad too loud, still running off the steam of his previous remarks. He folded his laptop, got to his feet, and strode into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. 

Richie lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie was a fucking asshole. He knew it, the cashier at the grocery store knew it, and now Richie knew it too. 

It wasn't Richie's fault that he was fidgeting so much, and Eddie knew he was the one being unreasonable. He had sat down with the honest intent of getting some work done for the shop, just replying to emails and placing orders for parts and the like, but that… didn't work out. Instead, his mind had decided to make him hyper aware of everything: the ceiling fan whirring above him and the refrigerator making ice and the snow still falling softly outside the window, but especially Richie. Every time he moved or shifted or stretched Eddie couldn't help but take note of every detail, and this of course led to Eddie getting worked up over him.

Richie had this horrible, intense effect on Eddie that made him want to punch him, to claw at his chest until his lungs couldn't work for the gouges through them, and at the same time made him want to fucking kiss him senseless. Eddie contemplated for a brief moment that he kind of understood those serial killers that claimed to love their victims, and then contemplated throwing himself out the nearest window for a lot longer. 

Before he could take any action, though, there was a knock on the door and Richie's nasal voice outside the door, warbly and apologetic.

"Hey, uh, Eds? Spaghetti man? Do you mind if I come in?" Jesus fuck, what a stupid nickname. Eddie was overcome with a rush of affection that had no place being as strong as it was, especially since he and Richie were practically strangers. 

"Yeah, don't worry, I'm not going to bite your arm off or anything. The door's unlocked." He threw the words across the empty space between the bed and his side of the door, still feeling as if he would vibrate out of his skin at any moment. This was not helped by the sight of Richie, tall and broad and lips still swollen pink from biting them all afternoon, making his way into Eddie's bedroom. 

"Okay, so I just thought maybe I should apologize?? I mean I don't really know what happened out there but I do know that I can get really annoying sometimes and I don't blame you for--" Richie was cut off, because Eddie hadn't been able to stop staring at him and his stupid out of control eyebrows and his dumbass gorgeous eyes and all the shit he was saying was also stupid as fuck, and so before he had much chance to think about it he had stepped forward and planted a kiss straight on Richie's mouth. 

"Richie, fucking listen to me." He said, speaking angrily to distract from the flush no doubt rising in his cheeks. "Why are you so oblivious?! Clearly I was in the wrong on this one, you know." He folded his arms and calmed down a few notches, leveling a meaningful look at Richie, who seemed to be nervous sweating. 

"Hold on a second, can we slow down? Did you just lay a fat one on me? Ay, Eduardo, your poor mother!" He said, but his heart wasn't in it. 

Eddie barrelled past the weak joke. "Well, maybe I did! Is… is that a problem for you?" Oh, god, he hadn't thought this through at all, had he? With all the times he'd caught Richie staring, he'd thought maybe… but no. He guessed not. 

He made to turn away, but Richie grabbed his elbow to spin him back, and kissed him to keep him there, eyes scrunched up tight behind his glasses. It was a horrible kiss, somehow worse than the first one, mouths off center and too much teeth. Richie accidentally bit too hard on Eddie's bottom lip, which combined with the surge of relief coursing through him and made him laugh, which made Richie laugh, and all in all this was the worst kiss of Eddie's life. But then Richie leaned forward a bit, and Eddie hooked his arms around Richie's broad, mouth-watering shoulders, and suddenly it wasn't so bad.

Actually, it was a lot better than not-so-bad. The kiss deepened and stayed that way, Eddie quickly growing addicted to the taste of Richie in his mouth. If the small noises the other man kept making were any indication, Richie was wholly on board with it, too. Backing up, Eddie's knees hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, Richie following him blindly. He fell to lay flat on his back not a second after, and Eddie crawled over top of him to straddle his hips. 

"Hey." He murmured low and deep into Richie's ear, and reached a hard up to card through his hair. "If you're not on board with this --" he rolled his hips down pointedly, so Richie could feel the hardening line of his dick pressing against him "-- then now is the time to say no." 

Richie made a weak, overwhelmed noise beneath him. He looked like he still couldn't believe this was happening, but he nodded several times and even threw up a dorky peace sign, so Eddie figured that was clear consent if he'd ever seen it. "Eds, I have been thinking about this all day. I have been thinking about this all week, and I didn't even know you existed back then. Maybe I pined for you in a past life?" Ah, there he was. What a man. What a weird, dweeby, tall, rough palmed, fucking hot man. 

"That's good, that's great, that's fucking great." Eddie ground his crotch against Richie's again, humming low in his throat when the other man thrust up to meet him. "Okay, clothes off, now. I need to be seeing you covered in hickeys yesterday." That one made Richie chuckle, though he couldn't fathom why.

"Should have known you'd be fucking bossy in bed." Despite the joke, Richie was obeying, divesting himself of his shirt and unbuttoning his pants while Eddie did the same. Before he got any further, Eddie set right to work kissing down his chest, loving the scratch of Richie's chest hair against his lips and hating that he loved it. He left a line of the promised hickeys down toward Richie's navel, muttering half to himself along the way.

"Jesus fuck, Richie, you-- you're stupid hot. Do you even know what you've been doing to me? What do you even need fingers like that for??" He mumbled almost nonsensically, eyes trained on where Richie's hands gripped the bedsheets at his sides. 

"Well, hopefully to get them inside you. You know, such thick fingers I have, all the better to finger you with, Eddie dear~." Richie cleared his throat and gestured helplessly at Eddie's naked torso. "And you're one to talk, dude. You look like you just fuckin walked out of a porn mag or some shit." 

Eddie snorted. "Yeah, right." He knew he was fit, and maybe a little attractive if you had a size difference fetish, but the muscles were more functional than anything, not sculpted. 

"No, I'm serious!" Richie, with a sudden passion, surged upward and around to reverse their positions, unbuttoning Eddie's jeans in turn and tugging them down along with his underwear. He let out a groan of relief as his cok sprung free, and kicked lightly at Richie to get him to do the same. He hadn't known what he was in for, though; Richie was fucking huge. What. The hell. 

"You don't believe me?" Richie was still stuck on the previous conversation somehow, when obviously this discovery took precedence. 

"Nevermind that, dickweed, what the fuck is that?!" 

"What?"

Eddie gestured emphatically at Richie's dick, standing proudly at attention before him. "You are hung as fuck! What do you mean, what?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Is that… good?" Eddie was going to eviscerate him, but not before he took advantage of that monster cock all the ways he knew how. Is that good? Why yes, Richie, has no one ever thought to tell you?!

"As a matter of fact, Richie, it is horrifying. I think I am going to have to blow you about it." With that, he shoved Richie into a sitting position against the headboard and fit his head between Richie's legs. It was about fucking time things started going somewhere. 

Richie, wholly unprepared, let out a groan at sight and feel of Eddie, licking a long trail up the underside of his dick, following a vein. He sucked kisses into it all the way up to the head, took the tip in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the slit and lapped up the precome leaking there, all while Richie made increasingly wrecked noises above him. Finally, Eddie took the first few inches in his mouth, and bobbed his head down further with every stroke. 

Richie's hands had tangled in Eddie's hair, wrapped around his head, and his hips twitched involuntarily every few seconds. "Eddie, fuck, can I--" he panted, breathless, and didn't even finish his sentence before Eddie was nodding and encouraging Richie to fuck his mouth. He barely needed any incentive to get going, his hips with a mind of their own at this point, thrusting up into Eddie's mouth with wild abandon.

Eddie ground the heel of his palm against his own dick, nearly painfully hard at this point, and relaxed his throat around Richie, swallowing once in a while. 

A few more minutes of that and Richie came with a shout, pulling Eddie up and off his dick just in time to spill all over his own chest, a few spurts still catching Eddie's chin. "Oh my god." he breathed, eyes glassed over. "Oh my god. My bones have been replaced with jello." Eddie couldn't quite suppress a short laugh at that.

"Why the fuck am I so attracted to you?" He asked rhetorically, but Richie answered as if he hadn't. 

"Hmm, I believe you said something about my… everything?" He teased, folding down to kiss Eddie and wrap one huge hand around his neglected cock. "What can I do for ya, baby?" 

"Oh, god, anything. Just keep doing what you're doing, I don't even care, I'm so close." Eddie scooted forward so he was straddling Richie again and they were sitting chest to chest, just enough space between them for Richie to keep pumping Eddie for all he was worth. Eddie hitched his hips up into Richie's hand, trying to get him to go faster, harder, and then Richie's thumb smeared over his tip and it was all over. Eddie spilled into the space between them and slumped forward, spent, onto Richie's chest. 

"Holy hell. Ho. Ly. H e l l." He said.

"Yeah." Richie agreed, stroking up and down his back with his clean hand. "I know exactly what you mean."

Eddie nuzzled further into Richie, promising to himself he would get up in a few minutes for a shower, and then promptly fell asleep.


End file.
